When I was an intern at Amazing Grace Lutheran here in Anchor-town, the congregation was focusinig on the "Assets" program to encourage adults to connect and support kids in the congregation.
Each Sunday, a member would read an "asset" that helps communities build healthy kids. She'd end with this chant, "All kids are our kids." The congregation got so good at this that it became common parlance around AGLC.
Today I attended an all-school assembly at Denali Elementary, just down the street from Central. As an aside, I don't think I've attended an assembly since the days when I sported blond pigtails, huge plastic glasses and light blue stirrup pants.
Anyway, the assembly was to honor students who'd completed Peer Mediator training, which empowers kids to be problem solvers among each other in classrooms and on playgrounds. The 3-day training was held at Central. We were to receive a thank you card just for offering the space in our building.
I came because I was asked, planned to accept my little thank you card and duck out early. I stayed for the whole assembly, mesmerized.
First, I was amazed at the kids' ability to sit on a hard floor and be mostly quiet.
Then, I was totally impressed with the guidance counselor's use of the values of Denali Elementary (respect and kindness are two of four). I was blown away by a presentation from a group of 6th-grade girls called "Girls Hold up the world" and a skit by a number of upper elementary students demonstrating the problems of name-calling. (We all chanted, "No sticks, no stones, no dissing.")
Finally, I was humbled by the gi-normous thankyou card for Central and the guidance counselor's comments thanking Central for its support of Denali and support of the Campfire USA program we house here. I had tears in my eyes as I accepted the card and watched the kids' presentation. These felt like "our kids" though I knew only a few of them from Campfire.
One of my parishioners who works at Denali sat next to me and she was teary-eyed too. We noted that maybe our world is full of hopelessness and kids standing up in front of other kids pledging to be mediators and warning about name-calling gives us hope for the world.
Take home lesson: be respectful of others, try to work out problems peacefully and most importantly, no dissing.
Oh that adults could live this in our world!
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
The devil you know...
The Old Testament lesson for Sunday is about the Israelites and Moses wandering in the wildnerness, having just escaped Egypt (plagues, Passover, Red Sea, chariots drown, the whole nine yards).
Now, in Exodus 17:1-7 they seem to have forgotten that whole God-saved-them-from-everything experience and they are whining. Whining!
"We're thirsty...why did you bring us out of Egypt to kill us with thirst?" In another part of Exodus, when hungry and sick of manna, they say, "Would it not be better to be back in Egypt where we at least had leeks and onions to eat?"
Egypt would have been better? Yeah, if you're into building pyramids for some pharoah who views you as a replacable part. If you don't mind the lack of freedom to practice your religion. Yeah, slavery was great. Whatever!
Maybe I should give them a break. I mean, they did thank and praise God for the act of liberation from Egypt. And if I was wandering in a wilderness with no water and my kids and cows were dying of thirst, I guess I might cry out to God in such a way.
But what interests me most is the question in Exodus 17:7 "Is the Lord among us or not?" Gosh, how many times have we asked this question? Put another way: "Where is God when I'm suffering?"
At Pacific Lutheran Theological Seminary in Berkeley, where I studied, there's a fountain based on this story outside of Sawyer Hall, where community meals are searved. A bronze statue of Moses is striking a bronze "rock" and water gushes forth. It's lovely and always running.
The statue grabbed my imagination because I had a tough first year of seminary. California was too big, too scary and too far from home. I missed my family and Iowa terribly. I spent most of my first year figuring out how I could transfer back to a seminary in the Midwest. I had filled out all the paperwork for Luther Seminary in Minnesota. I just wanted to go home.
I was a grumbling Israelite: Why did you bring me to this God-forsaken place?!?
Somehow, though, that water fountain comforted me. It reminded me that God does call us into weird and wild places. It reminded me that God never promised our journeys would be neat, tidy and full of comforts of home. It reminded me that God was right next to me in my painful experiences.
In the end, I stayed in Berkeley and was forever grateful for that wilderness journey. An older friend once remarked that when she looked back at her life, she had many happy times to recall. But the times that were most formative and that she was now grateful for, were those times of struggle.
Is the Lord among us or not?
He is here. They call him Emmanuel.
Now, in Exodus 17:1-7 they seem to have forgotten that whole God-saved-them-from-everything experience and they are whining. Whining!
"We're thirsty...why did you bring us out of Egypt to kill us with thirst?" In another part of Exodus, when hungry and sick of manna, they say, "Would it not be better to be back in Egypt where we at least had leeks and onions to eat?"
Egypt would have been better? Yeah, if you're into building pyramids for some pharoah who views you as a replacable part. If you don't mind the lack of freedom to practice your religion. Yeah, slavery was great. Whatever!
Maybe I should give them a break. I mean, they did thank and praise God for the act of liberation from Egypt. And if I was wandering in a wilderness with no water and my kids and cows were dying of thirst, I guess I might cry out to God in such a way.
But what interests me most is the question in Exodus 17:7 "Is the Lord among us or not?" Gosh, how many times have we asked this question? Put another way: "Where is God when I'm suffering?"
At Pacific Lutheran Theological Seminary in Berkeley, where I studied, there's a fountain based on this story outside of Sawyer Hall, where community meals are searved. A bronze statue of Moses is striking a bronze "rock" and water gushes forth. It's lovely and always running.
The statue grabbed my imagination because I had a tough first year of seminary. California was too big, too scary and too far from home. I missed my family and Iowa terribly. I spent most of my first year figuring out how I could transfer back to a seminary in the Midwest. I had filled out all the paperwork for Luther Seminary in Minnesota. I just wanted to go home.
I was a grumbling Israelite: Why did you bring me to this God-forsaken place?!?
Somehow, though, that water fountain comforted me. It reminded me that God does call us into weird and wild places. It reminded me that God never promised our journeys would be neat, tidy and full of comforts of home. It reminded me that God was right next to me in my painful experiences.
In the end, I stayed in Berkeley and was forever grateful for that wilderness journey. An older friend once remarked that when she looked back at her life, she had many happy times to recall. But the times that were most formative and that she was now grateful for, were those times of struggle.
Is the Lord among us or not?
He is here. They call him Emmanuel.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Central, listen to your children
At Confirmation class last night (Feb 10), we discussed the history of the Lutheran movement as one that is always reforming, always growing and changing.
The worksheet from the curriculum asked if our congregation was growing, declining or staying the same. So the kids as me. I decided honesty was best. We're actually declining slightly in attendance. We discussed which churches in our city (and nation) are growing fastest (non-denominationals) and where the Lutheran church actually is growing (Africa).
So why isn't Central growing, I asked. Their responses startled me.
"When you walk into church, it's very stiff, it's not very welcoming. It's like a funeral."
"The way people act it's almost like they don't want you to be there."
Now this is just the opinion of some kids, but we must listen. Their voices matter. Yet even with these critiques, when I asked how we could grow Central, they got really into the brainstorming and I was touched by their honesty and passion. Here are some things they suggested.
* More potlucks
* Better advertising of worship and church events
* More activities for young people to bring their friends
* Some activities immediately after worship for youth
* Re-do the outside of the building
* Painting inside (kids volunteered to help)
* A better sign out front, maybe with color to attract people driving by
* A coffeestand selling espresso and treats on Sunday mornings
* Add more contemporary, upbeat music.
These are terrific ideas, probably better than the stuff our church council has come up with (no offense). Like most great ideas, they do take coordination and work to pull them off.
Any takers :)
The worksheet from the curriculum asked if our congregation was growing, declining or staying the same. So the kids as me. I decided honesty was best. We're actually declining slightly in attendance. We discussed which churches in our city (and nation) are growing fastest (non-denominationals) and where the Lutheran church actually is growing (Africa).
So why isn't Central growing, I asked. Their responses startled me.
"When you walk into church, it's very stiff, it's not very welcoming. It's like a funeral."
"The way people act it's almost like they don't want you to be there."
Now this is just the opinion of some kids, but we must listen. Their voices matter. Yet even with these critiques, when I asked how we could grow Central, they got really into the brainstorming and I was touched by their honesty and passion. Here are some things they suggested.
* More potlucks
* Better advertising of worship and church events
* More activities for young people to bring their friends
* Some activities immediately after worship for youth
* Re-do the outside of the building
* Painting inside (kids volunteered to help)
* A better sign out front, maybe with color to attract people driving by
* A coffeestand selling espresso and treats on Sunday mornings
* Add more contemporary, upbeat music.
These are terrific ideas, probably better than the stuff our church council has come up with (no offense). Like most great ideas, they do take coordination and work to pull them off.
Any takers :)
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
On Caucuses and Kazahk Airports
Attending the Alaska Democratic Caucus last night (Feb. 5) was akin to getting through security in an aiport in Kazahkstan. You just keep pushing.
Alaska (like my home state Iowa) has caucuses. Who knew? Apparently thousands of Anchorage-area folks, who slammed into Begich Middle School (Dems) and The Eagan Center (Repubs) to weigh in on Campaign 2008.
Getting there was half the fun (?). I sat in traffic for nearly 2 hours on 15th and Debarr, knowing I was arriving 50 minutes later than the doors-closing time. Luckily, Alaskans care very little for rules and proprieties, so you could register right up until the vote was counted.
Near the middle school, I pulled onto a sidestreet and ran the rest of the way. 12 mintues. Minus four degrees. With a flu bug I've nursed for four days. Hey, I love the policital process.
Cars were parked on sidewalks up and down Debarr Road, and the parking lot was full of cars parked so randonmly it was as if their owners were raptured, Left-Behind style. People were actually leaving cars in the roundabout in front of the school. When someone later had to be removed by ambulance, the person on the loudspeaker had to ask at least three times for cars to move out of the emergency vehicle's way.
Inside, the gym was a Kazahk airport. No lines, no order, just lots of blue signs screaming "Hillary" and "Obama" and glassy-eyed faces below. Many had arrived well before 5 pm. Registration was supposed to close at 6:30; I arrived at 6:50. People were still streaming around precinct maps and registration tables like so many drones in a hive. Voters hastilily filled out cards and pushed their way to registration officials to get counted.
When I finally found my precinct room, my room captain didn't even have a list of registered Democrats, so I had to re-register. I made it over to the floor just in time to get counted as an official voter. Then, more waiting until we could fan out and stand up for the candidate of our choice.
The woman on the loudspeaker in our room played dualing microphones with the overhead loudspeaker. Many precincts had to move rooms because they were too big. Someone in our room (precinct 23) had tried to create hospitality with cheese and crackers and potato chips. I missed the goodies; the empty carcasses littered tables, adding to the disheveled look of the room.
Finally, though, I was able to stand up for my candidate of choice and get counted. And that matters.
Despite my woozy-ness from flu and lack of food, it was a delight to see peoples' passion for the process. And the hope that things can be better in our nation. That we can stand up and ask for change. And that maybe, somehow, one of these candidates will listen to the voices of the people and advocate for the poor.
That's what I felt in the room that night: hope.
I was proud to be a part of the process.
Alaska (like my home state Iowa) has caucuses. Who knew? Apparently thousands of Anchorage-area folks, who slammed into Begich Middle School (Dems) and The Eagan Center (Repubs) to weigh in on Campaign 2008.
Getting there was half the fun (?). I sat in traffic for nearly 2 hours on 15th and Debarr, knowing I was arriving 50 minutes later than the doors-closing time. Luckily, Alaskans care very little for rules and proprieties, so you could register right up until the vote was counted.
Near the middle school, I pulled onto a sidestreet and ran the rest of the way. 12 mintues. Minus four degrees. With a flu bug I've nursed for four days. Hey, I love the policital process.
Cars were parked on sidewalks up and down Debarr Road, and the parking lot was full of cars parked so randonmly it was as if their owners were raptured, Left-Behind style. People were actually leaving cars in the roundabout in front of the school. When someone later had to be removed by ambulance, the person on the loudspeaker had to ask at least three times for cars to move out of the emergency vehicle's way.
Inside, the gym was a Kazahk airport. No lines, no order, just lots of blue signs screaming "Hillary" and "Obama" and glassy-eyed faces below. Many had arrived well before 5 pm. Registration was supposed to close at 6:30; I arrived at 6:50. People were still streaming around precinct maps and registration tables like so many drones in a hive. Voters hastilily filled out cards and pushed their way to registration officials to get counted.
When I finally found my precinct room, my room captain didn't even have a list of registered Democrats, so I had to re-register. I made it over to the floor just in time to get counted as an official voter. Then, more waiting until we could fan out and stand up for the candidate of our choice.
The woman on the loudspeaker in our room played dualing microphones with the overhead loudspeaker. Many precincts had to move rooms because they were too big. Someone in our room (precinct 23) had tried to create hospitality with cheese and crackers and potato chips. I missed the goodies; the empty carcasses littered tables, adding to the disheveled look of the room.
Finally, though, I was able to stand up for my candidate of choice and get counted. And that matters.
Despite my woozy-ness from flu and lack of food, it was a delight to see peoples' passion for the process. And the hope that things can be better in our nation. That we can stand up and ask for change. And that maybe, somehow, one of these candidates will listen to the voices of the people and advocate for the poor.
That's what I felt in the room that night: hope.
I was proud to be a part of the process.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
The Hmong family baptism, Part I
Several years ago at Central Lutheran Church, there was a growing ministry with Hmong people. A refugee people from Laos, many Hmong have made their homes in Anchorage, with large Hmong communities also in Minneapolis/St Paul.
The ministry at Central has slowed, partly because many Hmong want a Hmong-speaking pastor or prefer to worship where they are not in the minority. This is understandable. However, we still have a couple Hmong families connected with Central.
I went to visit one of them, along with Marilyn Martinson, who has maintained a good relationship with this family for many years. Marilyn helps with English lessons, transportation and just general support. Her husband Ron built a shoe rack and a major addition onto the family's mobile home in Mt. View.
I joined Marilyn last week because there was a new baby in the house and the mother was interested in baptism.
Mai is a 17-year-old new mother, married within the last year to Tommy, who is about 22. Tommy's parents, Bau and Cher Tong, are regular worshippers at Central. When Tommy married Mai, Mai came to live with Tommy's parents as is the custom in that culture. Mai reminded me that at 17, she's old compared to some newly-married Hmong, who wed as early as age 12.
A polite, well-spoken young woman, Mai told me that she was interested in having her 4-week-old son Prince baptized. I asked if she knew what it meant. She thought it had something to do with being Christian but she wasn't sure. Her family, she explained, was Buddhist and not interested in Christianity.
So I spoke of baptism as the entry into God's family (even though God already loves you right now, Mai!) and a public ritual that you believe that God loves you. We talked about the use of water in the font, which reminds us that our old self is washed away and we become God's child. It's a way of hearing and knowing God's "yes" to us with a visible sign (water.) After my (I thought) quite simple but effective explanation, I asked Mai if she had any questions.
"Do you have to pay for it?" she asked. My heart nearly skipped a beat; she was so intense and serious. "Of course not," I replied. "It's a free gift from God."
We chatted more about other things. Bau served us coffee and cookies. Bau's two small grandchildren Vanity and Adam wandred in and out of the living room, cuddling next to Marilyn and showing her various books and catalogs. We all laughed and told stories. Bau showed us some money from Laos, and of her hope to return someday.
As we prepared to leave (after promising we'd return soon and I'd bring Mai a Bible), I remembered how tired I was when I arrived. I had wished I'd picked a different day to visit. Then I thought about how sometimes I'm tired and put off visits to our Sudanese family.
It's interesting: as certain as sun and snow in icy Alaska winters and the spring that stubbornly comes after breakup, is this: even when I'm weary, the kindness, thankfulness and hospitality of those from other cultures leaves me energized and grateful.
The ministry at Central has slowed, partly because many Hmong want a Hmong-speaking pastor or prefer to worship where they are not in the minority. This is understandable. However, we still have a couple Hmong families connected with Central.
I went to visit one of them, along with Marilyn Martinson, who has maintained a good relationship with this family for many years. Marilyn helps with English lessons, transportation and just general support. Her husband Ron built a shoe rack and a major addition onto the family's mobile home in Mt. View.
I joined Marilyn last week because there was a new baby in the house and the mother was interested in baptism.
Mai is a 17-year-old new mother, married within the last year to Tommy, who is about 22. Tommy's parents, Bau and Cher Tong, are regular worshippers at Central. When Tommy married Mai, Mai came to live with Tommy's parents as is the custom in that culture. Mai reminded me that at 17, she's old compared to some newly-married Hmong, who wed as early as age 12.
A polite, well-spoken young woman, Mai told me that she was interested in having her 4-week-old son Prince baptized. I asked if she knew what it meant. She thought it had something to do with being Christian but she wasn't sure. Her family, she explained, was Buddhist and not interested in Christianity.
So I spoke of baptism as the entry into God's family (even though God already loves you right now, Mai!) and a public ritual that you believe that God loves you. We talked about the use of water in the font, which reminds us that our old self is washed away and we become God's child. It's a way of hearing and knowing God's "yes" to us with a visible sign (water.) After my (I thought) quite simple but effective explanation, I asked Mai if she had any questions.
"Do you have to pay for it?" she asked. My heart nearly skipped a beat; she was so intense and serious. "Of course not," I replied. "It's a free gift from God."
We chatted more about other things. Bau served us coffee and cookies. Bau's two small grandchildren Vanity and Adam wandred in and out of the living room, cuddling next to Marilyn and showing her various books and catalogs. We all laughed and told stories. Bau showed us some money from Laos, and of her hope to return someday.
As we prepared to leave (after promising we'd return soon and I'd bring Mai a Bible), I remembered how tired I was when I arrived. I had wished I'd picked a different day to visit. Then I thought about how sometimes I'm tired and put off visits to our Sudanese family.
It's interesting: as certain as sun and snow in icy Alaska winters and the spring that stubbornly comes after breakup, is this: even when I'm weary, the kindness, thankfulness and hospitality of those from other cultures leaves me energized and grateful.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Christianity is not a religion
Last week I attended the Byberg Preaching Conference in Oregon, where theologian Douglass John Hall presented a series on "What Christianity is Not." One of the take-home nuggets: Christianity is not a religion. This could be shocking to some, welcome to others. Your take?
In a series of lectures, Hall articulated that Christianity is NOT: 1.) culture religion; 2.) a religion of the book; and 3.) A system of morality. Rock on DJ Hall, I say.
Again, his main point is that Christianity is a FAITH not a religion. I like this. I like remembering that the early followers of Christ were a movement, not an institutional system of regulations. Sure we need good order (I'm a Myers-Briggs J myself) but the heart of the good news is God's deep love for us and our call is to share that with a passion.
I have pages of notes from Hall's lectures, but another nugget I liked was when he played with Karl Barth's notion of God hating religion (just ask the prophet Amos). Barth describes religion as unbelief, as grasping, as taking a grasp at God. Hall adds, "If a religion is grasping, it will be competitive, exclusive...desire for certainty and absoluteness...this leads to violence."
On the other hand, authentic faith allows one to be grasped by God. A Lutheran spin might add: we don't have to DO anything, God comes to us, wooes us, loves us just as we are.
As a sidenote, I used DJ Hall's "Why Christian?" for a sermon series last fall and it really captured imagination/interest in my congregation. Seriously recommended for those on the fringes of Christianity or those willing to give it a second, open-minded and at times critical look.
In a series of lectures, Hall articulated that Christianity is NOT: 1.) culture religion; 2.) a religion of the book; and 3.) A system of morality. Rock on DJ Hall, I say.
Again, his main point is that Christianity is a FAITH not a religion. I like this. I like remembering that the early followers of Christ were a movement, not an institutional system of regulations. Sure we need good order (I'm a Myers-Briggs J myself) but the heart of the good news is God's deep love for us and our call is to share that with a passion.
I have pages of notes from Hall's lectures, but another nugget I liked was when he played with Karl Barth's notion of God hating religion (just ask the prophet Amos). Barth describes religion as unbelief, as grasping, as taking a grasp at God. Hall adds, "If a religion is grasping, it will be competitive, exclusive...desire for certainty and absoluteness...this leads to violence."
On the other hand, authentic faith allows one to be grasped by God. A Lutheran spin might add: we don't have to DO anything, God comes to us, wooes us, loves us just as we are.
As a sidenote, I used DJ Hall's "Why Christian?" for a sermon series last fall and it really captured imagination/interest in my congregation. Seriously recommended for those on the fringes of Christianity or those willing to give it a second, open-minded and at times critical look.
Skipping the Apologies (almost)
Dearest friends in blog-land-
Somehow, the craziness that is Christmas for pastors overwhelmed me and I posted not over the holiday season.
Then I went to Iowa from Dec. 31-Jan. 8 to visit family, then was in Cannon Beach, Oregon, for the Byberg preaching conference Jan 13-16.
Then I was so embarrassed that I hadn't blogged in so long that I procrastinated by not blogging. It's a vicious cycle. But the office manager goaded me today, so here I write.
Anyway, I'll not apologize (too much) for those (few) of you who read this on a (somewhat) regular basis. Sorry :)
Moving on.
So happy new year, ephiphany, January, etc. More (hopefully) thoughful remarks coming soon!
Somehow, the craziness that is Christmas for pastors overwhelmed me and I posted not over the holiday season.
Then I went to Iowa from Dec. 31-Jan. 8 to visit family, then was in Cannon Beach, Oregon, for the Byberg preaching conference Jan 13-16.
Then I was so embarrassed that I hadn't blogged in so long that I procrastinated by not blogging. It's a vicious cycle. But the office manager goaded me today, so here I write.
Anyway, I'll not apologize (too much) for those (few) of you who read this on a (somewhat) regular basis. Sorry :)
Moving on.
So happy new year, ephiphany, January, etc. More (hopefully) thoughful remarks coming soon!
Monday, December 10, 2007
Sermon on Peace, Dec. 9
I had a couple of requests for this sermon, preached at Central on Dec. 9. Please bear with it; it's kind of long. Deep peace, Lisa
"Peace"
Write a sermon about peace, our second Advent candle. I opened a Word doc and stared at it. What could I say about peace? This week, I had a conflict with a member of the Central family over a miscommunication. It haunted me Friday as I worked on this sermon. We discussed the conflict and both said, “I’m sorry.” Still, how to preach about peace when I can’t find it in my own congregation.
This week, I also had a conflict with a friend. I was unintentionally quite rude to this friend. I apologized but that doesn’t immediately fix things. This, too, haunted me as I worked on this sermon. How can I preach about peace when I can’t find it in my own friendships?
A few years ago, I had learned to play guitar and brought it to my extended family Christmas. My grandma requested Silent Night. As I played, two members of my extended family began chatting and it suddenly erupted into a yelling match; meanwhile, I sang softly. One of them ran out of the room. I kept singing softly, finishing the song in tears. How can I preach about peace when I can’t find it in my own family? Perhaps you can insert similar stories here. Congregations, families and individuals pray for peace on earth, peace between nations. How can we pray for peace when it’s not in our daily lives?
Sometimes when I’m low, I turn to God’s word for comfort. So how about this Matthew 3:1-12! Will there be comfort in these words? John the Baptizer is proclaiming repentance on the shores of the tiny Jordan River: “Prepare the Way of the Lord! Make his paths straight.” People listened to him and got baptized. The religious leaders of the day came, too, like all good religious leaders, to check out the scene. Maybe they wanted to get baptized just for insurance or may be they were just researching. Before they can utter a word, John lambastes them, calling them snakes, announcing wrath to come and urging them to bear fruit (which I take to mean that they were currently pretty barren). John continues to insult their Jewish ancestry and pride in being children of Abraham. Finally, John issues this threat that Jesus will carry a winnowing fork to separate wheat from chaff. It seems like John is calling the Pharisees “chaff” here.
On first glance, the only seeming way to find comfort here is if you knew FOR SURE you were wheat and not chaff. Maybe then you could find comfort in knowing you were peacefully in God’s hand. Maybe you could speak as certainly as the authors of the Left Behind series, who spoke a little too excitedly when asked in an interview about the fate of those considered “chaff.” They seemed to take a particular delight in the eternal damnation of some. I guess they knew for sure that they were the wheat. I disagree with those authors. Christ would take no delight in damnation of anyone. In fact, Christ seemed to prefer “chaff” over “wheat” in his day.
Let’s move to repentance, because I think it has something to do with peace. Greek experts remind us that this word “metanoia” is really about turning and going in the other direction. It’s about going 180 degrees the other way. It’s not just about changing your mind; it’s about changing your actions. But do we really need to repent? Didn’t Martin Luther get rid of the idea that we have to confess each and every sin to receive God’s mercy? I mean, the man drove himself crazy (and so would we) trying to recount them all. Do we need to repent? Of every sin, no. Of turning around, yes.
The reality of being human is that sometimes we go in the wrong direction. It’s not a judgment or a sign of moral failing. It’s just the way things are. Good people make bad choices; we do it all the time. So repentance offers us a venue to turn around and commit to going in another direction. We can do better, right?
Author Richard Jensen says when we think of repentance, we often think in an “I can” way. I can do better next time. I can think before I speak an unkind word. I can communicate earlier with people to avoid mix-ups. I can put others’ needs first. I can be more loving and compassionate toward the people in my life. I can work toward peace in this world. Do you think that maybe this Advent season, you can do this? Maybe just a little?
This is a great idea, but the reality is, repentance is more of an “I can’t” than an “I can.” True repentance is looking at our lives and saying, “You know what, I actually can’t. I can’t be good all the time, I can’t always treat others as I should, I can’t always put others’ needs first, I can’t always say the kind word or be the ‘bigger’ person. I can try but realistically I can’t.” And this, dear ones, is true repentance. We say, “I can’t,” but God in Jesus Christ can. This reliance on God’s strength is the way to peace.
This is the good news. The call to turn around, to repent, is the call to take an honest look at our lives, see our shortcomings, say, “I can’t” and know God says “I can.” God can and does offer us love and presence, forgiveness and hope and peace. When we say, I can’t, we remember our baptism (and John’s echoes of baptism). We believe that in baptism our old self is washed away and we are born again. We can remember our baptism every day; every day we say “I can’t,” we die to that old self and start anew. I wonder if maybe our best hope for peace in this world and in our lives is by returning to the font, to the baptismal font, acknowledging our shortcomings, knowing God’s forgiveness and trusting God’s love will help us turn and go a different direction. It is said that peace begins at home and this is true. Yet for Christians, this font, the waters of life, is our home. Here we are born and reborn.
A farm story: I never knew that chaff was worthless. Indeed, on my parents’ Iowa farm it is not. A couple weeks ago I talked about the baling and unloading hay as a family and enjoying the rest that followed. Before that promised rest, though, we swept the chaff that remained on the wooden bale rack. For this is another definition of chaff (I checked Webster’s) the bits and pieces of hay that remain after the rest is formed into bales. So my brother Jay and I swept the chaff and pushed it into recycled seed corn sacks that Dad held open. There was very little waste on our farm; Dad fed even the chaff to the cows. I like to think of it as cow appetizers.
Now that’s hay and Jesus spoke of wheat. So I checked this out online. Wheat chaff is the bracts and casings left behind from the grain. And what’s a farmer to do with wheat chaff? It gets tossed not into a fiery furnace but fed to animals. It becomes life-giving.
I believe that in our lifetimes, there is no way that God will every fully separate the wheat from the chaff in all my heart and actions. But I do believe that even my failings, God will somehow use for God’s purposes. Perhaps I might learn valuable lessons on how to better be Christ in this world. Perhaps my failings will lead me straight to God, to repentance and to saying “I can’t,” instead of insisting that I always can. Maybe God will use my chaff and yours too.
Maybe this is how peace is to come into the world. Maybe not with big acts of giving from Bill Gates and Oprah Winfrey. Maybe not through religious leaders like the Pharisees and Sadducees or pastors and bishops. Maybe not by big corporations or empires. Maybe it comes quietly, unassuming. Maybe peace travels a bumpy road and comes through obstacles. Maybe peace comes when the word is very dark. Maybe peace comes into the rough-hewn mangers of our hearts, lying in a bed of straw (or chaff). Peace will come again this year. May we recognize it in Christ’s coming.
"Peace"
Write a sermon about peace, our second Advent candle. I opened a Word doc and stared at it. What could I say about peace? This week, I had a conflict with a member of the Central family over a miscommunication. It haunted me Friday as I worked on this sermon. We discussed the conflict and both said, “I’m sorry.” Still, how to preach about peace when I can’t find it in my own congregation.
This week, I also had a conflict with a friend. I was unintentionally quite rude to this friend. I apologized but that doesn’t immediately fix things. This, too, haunted me as I worked on this sermon. How can I preach about peace when I can’t find it in my own friendships?
A few years ago, I had learned to play guitar and brought it to my extended family Christmas. My grandma requested Silent Night. As I played, two members of my extended family began chatting and it suddenly erupted into a yelling match; meanwhile, I sang softly. One of them ran out of the room. I kept singing softly, finishing the song in tears. How can I preach about peace when I can’t find it in my own family? Perhaps you can insert similar stories here. Congregations, families and individuals pray for peace on earth, peace between nations. How can we pray for peace when it’s not in our daily lives?
Sometimes when I’m low, I turn to God’s word for comfort. So how about this Matthew 3:1-12! Will there be comfort in these words? John the Baptizer is proclaiming repentance on the shores of the tiny Jordan River: “Prepare the Way of the Lord! Make his paths straight.” People listened to him and got baptized. The religious leaders of the day came, too, like all good religious leaders, to check out the scene. Maybe they wanted to get baptized just for insurance or may be they were just researching. Before they can utter a word, John lambastes them, calling them snakes, announcing wrath to come and urging them to bear fruit (which I take to mean that they were currently pretty barren). John continues to insult their Jewish ancestry and pride in being children of Abraham. Finally, John issues this threat that Jesus will carry a winnowing fork to separate wheat from chaff. It seems like John is calling the Pharisees “chaff” here.
On first glance, the only seeming way to find comfort here is if you knew FOR SURE you were wheat and not chaff. Maybe then you could find comfort in knowing you were peacefully in God’s hand. Maybe you could speak as certainly as the authors of the Left Behind series, who spoke a little too excitedly when asked in an interview about the fate of those considered “chaff.” They seemed to take a particular delight in the eternal damnation of some. I guess they knew for sure that they were the wheat. I disagree with those authors. Christ would take no delight in damnation of anyone. In fact, Christ seemed to prefer “chaff” over “wheat” in his day.
Let’s move to repentance, because I think it has something to do with peace. Greek experts remind us that this word “metanoia” is really about turning and going in the other direction. It’s about going 180 degrees the other way. It’s not just about changing your mind; it’s about changing your actions. But do we really need to repent? Didn’t Martin Luther get rid of the idea that we have to confess each and every sin to receive God’s mercy? I mean, the man drove himself crazy (and so would we) trying to recount them all. Do we need to repent? Of every sin, no. Of turning around, yes.
The reality of being human is that sometimes we go in the wrong direction. It’s not a judgment or a sign of moral failing. It’s just the way things are. Good people make bad choices; we do it all the time. So repentance offers us a venue to turn around and commit to going in another direction. We can do better, right?
Author Richard Jensen says when we think of repentance, we often think in an “I can” way. I can do better next time. I can think before I speak an unkind word. I can communicate earlier with people to avoid mix-ups. I can put others’ needs first. I can be more loving and compassionate toward the people in my life. I can work toward peace in this world. Do you think that maybe this Advent season, you can do this? Maybe just a little?
This is a great idea, but the reality is, repentance is more of an “I can’t” than an “I can.” True repentance is looking at our lives and saying, “You know what, I actually can’t. I can’t be good all the time, I can’t always treat others as I should, I can’t always put others’ needs first, I can’t always say the kind word or be the ‘bigger’ person. I can try but realistically I can’t.” And this, dear ones, is true repentance. We say, “I can’t,” but God in Jesus Christ can. This reliance on God’s strength is the way to peace.
This is the good news. The call to turn around, to repent, is the call to take an honest look at our lives, see our shortcomings, say, “I can’t” and know God says “I can.” God can and does offer us love and presence, forgiveness and hope and peace. When we say, I can’t, we remember our baptism (and John’s echoes of baptism). We believe that in baptism our old self is washed away and we are born again. We can remember our baptism every day; every day we say “I can’t,” we die to that old self and start anew. I wonder if maybe our best hope for peace in this world and in our lives is by returning to the font, to the baptismal font, acknowledging our shortcomings, knowing God’s forgiveness and trusting God’s love will help us turn and go a different direction. It is said that peace begins at home and this is true. Yet for Christians, this font, the waters of life, is our home. Here we are born and reborn.
A farm story: I never knew that chaff was worthless. Indeed, on my parents’ Iowa farm it is not. A couple weeks ago I talked about the baling and unloading hay as a family and enjoying the rest that followed. Before that promised rest, though, we swept the chaff that remained on the wooden bale rack. For this is another definition of chaff (I checked Webster’s) the bits and pieces of hay that remain after the rest is formed into bales. So my brother Jay and I swept the chaff and pushed it into recycled seed corn sacks that Dad held open. There was very little waste on our farm; Dad fed even the chaff to the cows. I like to think of it as cow appetizers.
Now that’s hay and Jesus spoke of wheat. So I checked this out online. Wheat chaff is the bracts and casings left behind from the grain. And what’s a farmer to do with wheat chaff? It gets tossed not into a fiery furnace but fed to animals. It becomes life-giving.
I believe that in our lifetimes, there is no way that God will every fully separate the wheat from the chaff in all my heart and actions. But I do believe that even my failings, God will somehow use for God’s purposes. Perhaps I might learn valuable lessons on how to better be Christ in this world. Perhaps my failings will lead me straight to God, to repentance and to saying “I can’t,” instead of insisting that I always can. Maybe God will use my chaff and yours too.
Maybe this is how peace is to come into the world. Maybe not with big acts of giving from Bill Gates and Oprah Winfrey. Maybe not through religious leaders like the Pharisees and Sadducees or pastors and bishops. Maybe not by big corporations or empires. Maybe it comes quietly, unassuming. Maybe peace travels a bumpy road and comes through obstacles. Maybe peace comes when the word is very dark. Maybe peace comes into the rough-hewn mangers of our hearts, lying in a bed of straw (or chaff). Peace will come again this year. May we recognize it in Christ’s coming.
Monday, December 03, 2007
Shish on film!
Shishmaref is on the big screen. Or at least Anchor-town's big screen.
This week, Anhorage hosts its own international film festival. From features, to documentaries to shorts, the fest has dozens of options for movie-lovers.
"Polarized" features Shishmaref, a town of 560, mostly native. There's also a Lutheran presence in Shishmaref Lutheran, though that wasn't featured in the film.
The film discusses how global warming has affected Shishmaref, which is losing coastline fast due to erosion. Permafrost is melting and people's houses are literally falling into the sea. I saw it last Saturday; it was great.
So that's my recommendation: check out this film. It's a "short," only 10 minutes but good. For your ticket price, you also get to see another documentary. It's only playing once more during the fest: Saturday at 2:30 at OutNorth (Debarr/Bragaw intersection). Learn more at www.anchoragefilmfestival.com
This week, Anhorage hosts its own international film festival. From features, to documentaries to shorts, the fest has dozens of options for movie-lovers.
"Polarized" features Shishmaref, a town of 560, mostly native. There's also a Lutheran presence in Shishmaref Lutheran, though that wasn't featured in the film.
The film discusses how global warming has affected Shishmaref, which is losing coastline fast due to erosion. Permafrost is melting and people's houses are literally falling into the sea. I saw it last Saturday; it was great.
So that's my recommendation: check out this film. It's a "short," only 10 minutes but good. For your ticket price, you also get to see another documentary. It's only playing once more during the fest: Saturday at 2:30 at OutNorth (Debarr/Bragaw intersection). Learn more at www.anchoragefilmfestival.com
Monday, November 26, 2007
'Tis the season for distraction
Got prayer?
Nah, too busy. It's almost December, you know. Time for the marathon of Christmas cards/shopping/parties/cookies/gifts/fruitcakes/extra pounds. Y'all ready for this?
Timely, then, that one of our parishioners submitted an article for our December newsletter about being "too busy" for worship. She wrote about the rest and peace that comes when she does make that holy space.
Sometimes I think the busier I am, the more I MUST stop and rest, worship, pray. If I am full, there is no space for God to come in and nestle in the manger of my heart.
But we all get distracted.
In another newsletter from Christ Lutheran in Soldotna (shout out to Pr Randy) there's an opening letter about distractions in prayer. We all experience this, admit it. My moments of silence can be the loudest part of my day, with the echoing thoughts screaming in my brain.
Pr Randy quotes British theologian Herbert McCabe, so I will too. (Shout out to McCabe, where ever you are). Says McCabe, when we pray for "high-minded" things like wars to cease and the hungry to be fed, we may be easily distracted. Yes, these are good to pray for but they are not our deepest desires. We are distraced by our deepest desires, so pay attention to them. McCabe goes on:
"If you are distracted, trace your distraction back to the real desire it comes from and pray about these. When you are praying for what you really want you will not be distracted. People on sinking shops do not complain about distractions during their prayer."
Amen!
Nah, too busy. It's almost December, you know. Time for the marathon of Christmas cards/shopping/parties/cookies/gifts/fruitcakes/extra pounds. Y'all ready for this?
Timely, then, that one of our parishioners submitted an article for our December newsletter about being "too busy" for worship. She wrote about the rest and peace that comes when she does make that holy space.
Sometimes I think the busier I am, the more I MUST stop and rest, worship, pray. If I am full, there is no space for God to come in and nestle in the manger of my heart.
But we all get distracted.
In another newsletter from Christ Lutheran in Soldotna (shout out to Pr Randy) there's an opening letter about distractions in prayer. We all experience this, admit it. My moments of silence can be the loudest part of my day, with the echoing thoughts screaming in my brain.
Pr Randy quotes British theologian Herbert McCabe, so I will too. (Shout out to McCabe, where ever you are). Says McCabe, when we pray for "high-minded" things like wars to cease and the hungry to be fed, we may be easily distracted. Yes, these are good to pray for but they are not our deepest desires. We are distraced by our deepest desires, so pay attention to them. McCabe goes on:
"If you are distracted, trace your distraction back to the real desire it comes from and pray about these. When you are praying for what you really want you will not be distracted. People on sinking shops do not complain about distractions during their prayer."
Amen!
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Frequently facebook
It's true. Since my twenty-something sister helped me figure out how to use Facebook this summer, I'm a regular user. I confess. My email address for Facebook, BTW, is centsmith@gci.net. So if you'd like to be my "friend," please invite me. I can't figure out how to invite you. No offense.
Anyway, came across this funny little ditty about Facebook on YouTube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2b-fJxzpK7s
What does this have to do with ministry? Well, the reason I signed up (and as Pastor Lisa) was by an invite from a parishioner who doesn't attend worship but communicates with me on Facebook. Interesting way to do ministry, eh?
Anyway, came across this funny little ditty about Facebook on YouTube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2b-fJxzpK7s
What does this have to do with ministry? Well, the reason I signed up (and as Pastor Lisa) was by an invite from a parishioner who doesn't attend worship but communicates with me on Facebook. Interesting way to do ministry, eh?
Friday, November 16, 2007
A little more press
Okay, one more bit of media attention. Check out what the Anchorage Daily News has to report about the after school program at Central, run by Campfire USA.
http://www.adn.com/news/education/story/9457561p-9368961c.html
I promise I'm not quoted in this one :)
http://www.adn.com/news/education/story/9457561p-9368961c.html
I promise I'm not quoted in this one :)
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
On interfaith dialogue
Last Thursday I attended a luncheon of Jews, Christians and Muslims. We came for interfaith dialogue, facilitated by Maryam Quadrat, a Muslim scholar whose family is from Afghanistan. She did a number of lectures last week as part of APU's "Engaging Muslims" series.
First, let me say unapologetically that we each have a responsibility to learn from and listen to those of other faiths, cultures and ethnicities. This is foundational if we are to work for peace in our world. Living in a bubble of those just like us is not the way toward peace and understanding. We must go out of our comfort zone and dialogue with someone different.
Sitting in the Willow Conference room at Providence Hospital last Thursday, I felt alive. We introduced ourselves: Muslims, Jews, Methodists, Lutherans, Christian Scientists. Our common purpose was to listen and hopefully hear each other.
Here are some things I learned:
* Islam is tightly wound with politics and culture. Political and religious leaders are "in" with each other, kind of like the Holy Roman Empire/Catholic church of middle ages Europe. This is problematic, but not a FAULT in Islam. Can you say, "crusades?"
* The Koran does NOT say women must cover their heads. It says they must cover their "ornaments." So it's open for interpretation and many disagree, just like with the Bible. Remember these are men in power doing the interpreting. So, women cover their heads. Some think "ornaments" means hair. A more liberal read on the Koran would suggest "ornaments" merely refers to "breasts." And, yes, those should be covered in public!
* In Afghanistan, only men are allowed in mosques. Period.
* The Taliban are burning 10 schools a month in Afghanistan.
* The way to change? Quadrat suggests EDUCATION, which would "put the Taliban out of business." People need education and scholarship rising up from universities. This is where we can find hope.
When asked at the end, what can we do to help bring about peace, we heard only simple answers. But maybe these are the most important.
Recognize that peoples' most basic needs are the same everywhere. And get beyond misconceptions to actually learn about those from different cultures and religions.
To that, I'd add, "Do it now."
First, let me say unapologetically that we each have a responsibility to learn from and listen to those of other faiths, cultures and ethnicities. This is foundational if we are to work for peace in our world. Living in a bubble of those just like us is not the way toward peace and understanding. We must go out of our comfort zone and dialogue with someone different.
Sitting in the Willow Conference room at Providence Hospital last Thursday, I felt alive. We introduced ourselves: Muslims, Jews, Methodists, Lutherans, Christian Scientists. Our common purpose was to listen and hopefully hear each other.
Here are some things I learned:
* Islam is tightly wound with politics and culture. Political and religious leaders are "in" with each other, kind of like the Holy Roman Empire/Catholic church of middle ages Europe. This is problematic, but not a FAULT in Islam. Can you say, "crusades?"
* The Koran does NOT say women must cover their heads. It says they must cover their "ornaments." So it's open for interpretation and many disagree, just like with the Bible. Remember these are men in power doing the interpreting. So, women cover their heads. Some think "ornaments" means hair. A more liberal read on the Koran would suggest "ornaments" merely refers to "breasts." And, yes, those should be covered in public!
* In Afghanistan, only men are allowed in mosques. Period.
* The Taliban are burning 10 schools a month in Afghanistan.
* The way to change? Quadrat suggests EDUCATION, which would "put the Taliban out of business." People need education and scholarship rising up from universities. This is where we can find hope.
When asked at the end, what can we do to help bring about peace, we heard only simple answers. But maybe these are the most important.
Recognize that peoples' most basic needs are the same everywhere. And get beyond misconceptions to actually learn about those from different cultures and religions.
To that, I'd add, "Do it now."
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Can I Have Your Autograph?
Seriously. Someone asked me this yesterday (I think they were kidding). We've had some media attention around Central lately, thanks to the municipality of Anchorage budget that underfunds an after-school program at Central.
Two years ago, the mayor's office agreed to fund a Campfire USA program for free for kids in our West Fairview neighborhood. In the 2008 proposed muni budget, the program was not fully funded. Neither was a summer kids' program at St. Anthony Catholic Church, a fellow member of our community organizing group AFACT.
So we did what we knew how to do: we had a public meeting with assembly members, presented research on why these programs are important and asked assembly members to commit to supporting them.
And then the media came. The local NBC and CBS affiliates interviewed me here at Central, one on Monday, one on Friday. One interviewed our parishioner Dahna Graham. Both she and I ended up on TV. I was sure glad we were getting some "press" for something positive. Yes! Now we just have to wait and see what the assembly will do.
I was pretty fired up about getting our muni support for the families in Fairview who use the Campfire program. One mother recently told me that her son has no where else to play (they live in a high-density living area). And a 6-year-old boy in an apartment for hours on end is no good!
Another thing that fired me up: when we focus on the families being served, we win. When we focus on the politics, we lose. There's been some tug of war between mayors' office and assembly 'round this buget. I was extremely disappointed when a parishioner from another congregation (thank you!) wrote an assemblyman to urge his support for the afterschool program. The assemblyman's response: it's the mayor's fault, he left it out of the budget, why don't you ask him. The last sentence was in all capital letters...like he was in third grade or becoming Owen Meany.
Anyway, I don't know whose "fault" it was that the after school program wasn't in the budget but the damage is done. I commend all who showed up to support these programs in our AFACT meeting Monday night, and all those on the assembly who will work for after-school programs in the budget.
Two years ago, the mayor's office agreed to fund a Campfire USA program for free for kids in our West Fairview neighborhood. In the 2008 proposed muni budget, the program was not fully funded. Neither was a summer kids' program at St. Anthony Catholic Church, a fellow member of our community organizing group AFACT.
So we did what we knew how to do: we had a public meeting with assembly members, presented research on why these programs are important and asked assembly members to commit to supporting them.
And then the media came. The local NBC and CBS affiliates interviewed me here at Central, one on Monday, one on Friday. One interviewed our parishioner Dahna Graham. Both she and I ended up on TV. I was sure glad we were getting some "press" for something positive. Yes! Now we just have to wait and see what the assembly will do.
I was pretty fired up about getting our muni support for the families in Fairview who use the Campfire program. One mother recently told me that her son has no where else to play (they live in a high-density living area). And a 6-year-old boy in an apartment for hours on end is no good!
Another thing that fired me up: when we focus on the families being served, we win. When we focus on the politics, we lose. There's been some tug of war between mayors' office and assembly 'round this buget. I was extremely disappointed when a parishioner from another congregation (thank you!) wrote an assemblyman to urge his support for the afterschool program. The assemblyman's response: it's the mayor's fault, he left it out of the budget, why don't you ask him. The last sentence was in all capital letters...like he was in third grade or becoming Owen Meany.
Anyway, I don't know whose "fault" it was that the after school program wasn't in the budget but the damage is done. I commend all who showed up to support these programs in our AFACT meeting Monday night, and all those on the assembly who will work for after-school programs in the budget.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
For all the saints
Hello to all you saints out there. It's all saints day in our tradition and I've been thinking about this all week. My yoga teacher even mentioned it in class this morning (after first asking me to please explain the intent of the festival -- nice to get some positive PR for Christians in there :)
Pastor Mike explained last year that All Saints on Nov. 1 traditionally honors those "bona fide" saints: matthew, mark, luke, what-have-you. All Saints was started sometime in the third century to honor martyrs.
Nov. 2 is All Souls, which honors anyone who has gone before. I always thought All Souls sounded funny, especially when I noted that an Episcopal church in Berkeley was named "All Souls Parish." Duh!
In worship tonight (Taize, 7 pm) and on Sunday, we'll light a candle for those who have gone before. It's good to think of this. We need ritual to remember the dead and celebrate their impacts in our lives. After all, most people at a funeral aren't crying over the one who died, they're grieving all the other losses they haven't finished grieving yet. Some of them we never finish grieving and that's okay. We just live with "grief moments," as Donna Stevens says, an Anchorage nurse and expert in grief. We should have her speak at Central sometime.
So I'll share that I'm thinking about my Grandma today, who died in March. Janina Hnantow Smith. I haven't been back to Iowa since she died, so sometimes I forget she's gone. I think this is normal. And I know the grief moments will keep coming, especially when I return after Christmas this year.
So maybe you have special saint to think of today. Maybe you can light a candle to remember him or her. I'm going to go light one right now.
Pastor Mike explained last year that All Saints on Nov. 1 traditionally honors those "bona fide" saints: matthew, mark, luke, what-have-you. All Saints was started sometime in the third century to honor martyrs.
Nov. 2 is All Souls, which honors anyone who has gone before. I always thought All Souls sounded funny, especially when I noted that an Episcopal church in Berkeley was named "All Souls Parish." Duh!
In worship tonight (Taize, 7 pm) and on Sunday, we'll light a candle for those who have gone before. It's good to think of this. We need ritual to remember the dead and celebrate their impacts in our lives. After all, most people at a funeral aren't crying over the one who died, they're grieving all the other losses they haven't finished grieving yet. Some of them we never finish grieving and that's okay. We just live with "grief moments," as Donna Stevens says, an Anchorage nurse and expert in grief. We should have her speak at Central sometime.
So I'll share that I'm thinking about my Grandma today, who died in March. Janina Hnantow Smith. I haven't been back to Iowa since she died, so sometimes I forget she's gone. I think this is normal. And I know the grief moments will keep coming, especially when I return after Christmas this year.
So maybe you have special saint to think of today. Maybe you can light a candle to remember him or her. I'm going to go light one right now.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Pondering my sinful nature
I opened the devotion book to that night's reading:
"I pray that I consider my sin and the sin of the world so that, sorrowful and broken, it might drive me to Christ." (or something like that!)
Ugh. Ponder my sinful nature. No thanks. My life's good. Why would I want to waste time feeling bad? I just couldn't get excited about this one.
I'm working through a devotional book from my spiritual director (To Walk With Christ). It's based on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignagtius. Each week has a prayer focus, scripture readings and an encouragement to journal. Past weeks have asked me to ponder God's love for me and ponder the gifts of God in my life. These were fun; I just wasn't into feeling down about my sin.
A couple days later, I looked at the texts for Reformation Sunday, on which I'll preach. Romans 3:23: "Since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." Well, of course I know as Lutherans we recognize ourselves as saint-sinner. But I kept hearing in the back of my head the voice of a college friend who once told me, "You know, I don't really think of myself as a sinner."
So what's this about? Hubris? Pride? Dependency on my own gifts instead of God's? Worshipping the false idol of myself? Probably something in there is true. Douglas John Hall warns, for example, that sometimes we don't really love others, we love ourselves for pretending to love others.
I don't think I've quite answered this for myself, so I'm not going to leave you with the "right" answer, just ask the question again: How do I ponder my sinful nature in a real way when my life's good?
"I pray that I consider my sin and the sin of the world so that, sorrowful and broken, it might drive me to Christ." (or something like that!)
Ugh. Ponder my sinful nature. No thanks. My life's good. Why would I want to waste time feeling bad? I just couldn't get excited about this one.
I'm working through a devotional book from my spiritual director (To Walk With Christ). It's based on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignagtius. Each week has a prayer focus, scripture readings and an encouragement to journal. Past weeks have asked me to ponder God's love for me and ponder the gifts of God in my life. These were fun; I just wasn't into feeling down about my sin.
A couple days later, I looked at the texts for Reformation Sunday, on which I'll preach. Romans 3:23: "Since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." Well, of course I know as Lutherans we recognize ourselves as saint-sinner. But I kept hearing in the back of my head the voice of a college friend who once told me, "You know, I don't really think of myself as a sinner."
So what's this about? Hubris? Pride? Dependency on my own gifts instead of God's? Worshipping the false idol of myself? Probably something in there is true. Douglas John Hall warns, for example, that sometimes we don't really love others, we love ourselves for pretending to love others.
I don't think I've quite answered this for myself, so I'm not going to leave you with the "right" answer, just ask the question again: How do I ponder my sinful nature in a real way when my life's good?
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Almost Famous
Sometimes pastors get to be talking heads. I pray we say things that matter.
I did a news interview with CBS Channel 11 today. The topic: the US House was unable to override President Bush's veto of the SCHIP bill that would reauthorize spending for health insurance for uninsured kids. I wore my AFACT hat (Anchorage Faith and Action, Congregations Together -- which is a community organizing ecumenical group --and I'm on the board). The clip will air tonight (Oct. 18) at 5 and 6 pm news.
The bill impacts Alaskans. Families at 100% of poverty level get Medicaid. Families who can afford it or have adequate employer coverage use private insurance. In AK, those who are at %175 of poverty level or below, get insurance through DenaliKidCare, which is 70 % funded by the federal government. So, now that SCHIP has failed, we wonder if/when/how Alaska will fund DenaliKidCare.
The reporter wanted to know AFACT's reaction and what we'll do next. I said we were disappointed, though pleased that Rep. Don Young did vote to override the veto. I also said we'll keep talking to our state reps (which AFACT members are doing right now) and find out their vision of children's health care. We'll also keep talking with families.
It must be frightening to be a parent with no insurance for your children, or choose between rent, food or insurance.
I don't remember the strain, but I grew up without health insurance. My parents were farmers and couldn't afford private coverage. We did lots of home remedies and only went to the doctor when absolutely necessary. When my younger sister was born, my parents slowly paid the hospital bill in installments. Thank God no one was ever seriously hurt. When I was in college, my parents were able to find a state-sponsored health insurance for my sister, so she did grow up with this aid.
Anyway, I certainly don't have all the answers, but not helping working parents provide health care for their kids is not acceptable.
I did a news interview with CBS Channel 11 today. The topic: the US House was unable to override President Bush's veto of the SCHIP bill that would reauthorize spending for health insurance for uninsured kids. I wore my AFACT hat (Anchorage Faith and Action, Congregations Together -- which is a community organizing ecumenical group --and I'm on the board). The clip will air tonight (Oct. 18) at 5 and 6 pm news.
The bill impacts Alaskans. Families at 100% of poverty level get Medicaid. Families who can afford it or have adequate employer coverage use private insurance. In AK, those who are at %175 of poverty level or below, get insurance through DenaliKidCare, which is 70 % funded by the federal government. So, now that SCHIP has failed, we wonder if/when/how Alaska will fund DenaliKidCare.
The reporter wanted to know AFACT's reaction and what we'll do next. I said we were disappointed, though pleased that Rep. Don Young did vote to override the veto. I also said we'll keep talking to our state reps (which AFACT members are doing right now) and find out their vision of children's health care. We'll also keep talking with families.
It must be frightening to be a parent with no insurance for your children, or choose between rent, food or insurance.
I don't remember the strain, but I grew up without health insurance. My parents were farmers and couldn't afford private coverage. We did lots of home remedies and only went to the doctor when absolutely necessary. When my younger sister was born, my parents slowly paid the hospital bill in installments. Thank God no one was ever seriously hurt. When I was in college, my parents were able to find a state-sponsored health insurance for my sister, so she did grow up with this aid.
Anyway, I certainly don't have all the answers, but not helping working parents provide health care for their kids is not acceptable.
Monday, October 08, 2007
Faith, starring Glenn P.
Can I just say that I love working with our new senior pastor Glenn Petersen? This sounds like I'm sucking up but he preached a good sermon on faith yesterday. Here, a few gems worth repeating.
* Faith is not a choice but it prompts choice.
* Faith is personal but not private.
* We don't own our faith. Our faith owns us. (It belongs to a community).
* Faith lives in us. It's not something we have.
* We "keep the faith" by living it, by giving our love, compassion, kindness away.
Good stuff, eh? Thanks Glenn!
* Faith is not a choice but it prompts choice.
* Faith is personal but not private.
* We don't own our faith. Our faith owns us. (It belongs to a community).
* Faith lives in us. It's not something we have.
* We "keep the faith" by living it, by giving our love, compassion, kindness away.
Good stuff, eh? Thanks Glenn!
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
What do they expect us to be?
I'm preaching a sermon series at our 9:45 contemporary service on doubt. More specifically, on "Why Christian?" by Douglas John Hall. It's an apologetic for Christianity and an honest look at why we believe the things we believe as Christians.
Last Sunday (9.30) was on "What difference does Christianity make?" When I spoke of faith as trust (not certainty), a few people had comments.
One young man (married, 2 elementary-aged kids) said people outside of churches expect (want, demand?) Christians to be unwavering in faith. He reminded us of the upset of the recently discovered letters of Mother Teresa's doubts. He said we may feel free to express doubts in church but "out there" there's a different expectation.
I was troubled by his comment. Perhaps it rang too true.
I do have doubts, at times, and feel it's most healthy to live those questions in community, as well as in my personal prayer time. In my work with young adults, I feel my honesty about doubts are actually a strength.
I wonder this: why do those outside or marginally outside chruches want us to be so steadfast? What purpose or role does this serve? Is it just a symptom of a black-and-white culture that wants easy answers?
I don't know. This seems opposite from Hall. He says doubt make us seem MORE relevant to the world. He suggested that if Christians were more honest about their doubts, our answers would be more compelling.
I wonder, finally, if focusing on what others want/need isn't the right place to start? Maybe we still start from out centered self -- centered on Jesus Christ as the particular expression of the abstract God -- so centered that we are free to doubt as part of a loving relationship with God.
Last Sunday (9.30) was on "What difference does Christianity make?" When I spoke of faith as trust (not certainty), a few people had comments.
One young man (married, 2 elementary-aged kids) said people outside of churches expect (want, demand?) Christians to be unwavering in faith. He reminded us of the upset of the recently discovered letters of Mother Teresa's doubts. He said we may feel free to express doubts in church but "out there" there's a different expectation.
I was troubled by his comment. Perhaps it rang too true.
I do have doubts, at times, and feel it's most healthy to live those questions in community, as well as in my personal prayer time. In my work with young adults, I feel my honesty about doubts are actually a strength.
I wonder this: why do those outside or marginally outside chruches want us to be so steadfast? What purpose or role does this serve? Is it just a symptom of a black-and-white culture that wants easy answers?
I don't know. This seems opposite from Hall. He says doubt make us seem MORE relevant to the world. He suggested that if Christians were more honest about their doubts, our answers would be more compelling.
I wonder, finally, if focusing on what others want/need isn't the right place to start? Maybe we still start from out centered self -- centered on Jesus Christ as the particular expression of the abstract God -- so centered that we are free to doubt as part of a loving relationship with God.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Spacious
I'm teaching yoga, after graduating from a year-long teacher training program in June.
I teach Wednesdays in the early morn at the Inner Dance Yoga studio here in Anchor-town. Some of my students know about my "real job," some don't. I always tell them if they ask and they always look slightly surprised. Of course a young female pastor gets that a lot in general...
Anyway, this morning's class was all about opening the hips and releasing tension and tightness there. The yogis believe that we store anxiety in our hips muscles and if we stretch them, we will release this pent-up anxiety. Heck, we're North Americans, I think we store anxiety EVERYWHERE. I digress...
I was reminding my students to create spaciousness through the various poses that open the hips. At one point, without really planning to, I heard myself quoting Lutheran Pastor Dan Erlander, who said "salvation" in Hebrew is can be translated as "spaciousness."
I always find it interesting to make these connections across faith backgrounds. A yoga class where a Lutheran pastor is quoting a Hebrew understanding of salvation.
It felt good. It felt spacious.
I teach Wednesdays in the early morn at the Inner Dance Yoga studio here in Anchor-town. Some of my students know about my "real job," some don't. I always tell them if they ask and they always look slightly surprised. Of course a young female pastor gets that a lot in general...
Anyway, this morning's class was all about opening the hips and releasing tension and tightness there. The yogis believe that we store anxiety in our hips muscles and if we stretch them, we will release this pent-up anxiety. Heck, we're North Americans, I think we store anxiety EVERYWHERE. I digress...
I was reminding my students to create spaciousness through the various poses that open the hips. At one point, without really planning to, I heard myself quoting Lutheran Pastor Dan Erlander, who said "salvation" in Hebrew is can be translated as "spaciousness."
I always find it interesting to make these connections across faith backgrounds. A yoga class where a Lutheran pastor is quoting a Hebrew understanding of salvation.
It felt good. It felt spacious.
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